Today marks one year since our precious Timothy went to be with Jesus.  I'm not sure what to call this day.  It's not a birthday.  It's not even a death-day.  He probably passed away days before he was stillborn.  His little heart was beating strongly at his last checkup.  "Anniversary" doesn't sound quite right.  I toyed with the idea of "Promotion Day" or "Graduation Day" to acknowledge that he is not truly dead, but his life continues on in Eternity.  Josh suggested "Moving Day", since he moved to Heaven.  I've heard some refer to such a day as an "Angelversary".  I like the sound of it, but I don't want to mislead the children.  Unlike the cartoons I watched as a child, I know Timothy has not nor will he ever become an angel.

     Whatever you want to call the day, I felt compelled to acknowledge it  in someway.  Without protocol or tradition to guide me, I was a little lost for what to do.  We considered planting a tree, but our small yard is full of large trees.  I couldn't find a spot for one.  Plus, this place is only temporary and we are renting.  In the end, we decided to make donation to our local pregnancy crisis center.  I called and got a list of what items they needed, then the children and I went shopping.  I let them each choose an outfit, which was fun because they could pick whatever gender or size caught their fancy since we weren't buying for any particular baby.  It feels right to use this opportunity to help others.  The center is closed today, so we will deliver the items tomorrow or on Saturday.  We also looked at Timmy's scrapbook, sang his hymn (I'd Rather Have Jesus), and ate angelfood cake in memory of him.

   Other than these few things, the day was very, . . . well . . . normal; filled with homeschool and soccer, laundry and diaper changes.  Looking ahead to this time and wondering how I'd feel today, I swung back and forth between wanting to spend the day in self-pity and despair and wanting to highlight the positive and recognize how far I've come in a year, and celebrate Timothy's life in Heaven.  In the end, I realized yesterday that I didn't want to be depressed and that I'm not obligated to, just because the calendar reads a certain date.  It doesn't mean I love him any less if I choose not to despair this day.  I will always miss him.  There will always be a hole.  But right now, I want to focus on all that I have and all God has blessed me with instead of dwelling on what I wish I had.  God has blessed us so abundantly, the only thing that feels right is to thank and praise Him.

    My alarm went off this morning and the radio was playing Praise You in This Storm by Casting Crowns.  This was my song during my grief.  My sister introduced me to it the day after we lost Timmy and I even did a worship dance to it at my church.  The last song the radio played before I turned it off to read my Bible and begin my day was Who Am I by Point of Grace.  This has been a recent favorite of mine as I find peace in ceasing my questions and resting and trusting in Jesus.  I'm not capable of understanding His higher ways.  My only job is to give Him praise, not to figure Him out or explain Him to others.  Since the words to the song are so thought-provoking and since Point of Grace has two different songs by the same name, I include the lyrics for you here in case you're not familiar with the song.  I highly recommend you download this one or buy the CD!

Who Am I

(Terri Fritsch, Marshall Hall, Sam Mizell)

I've tried to wrap my mind around the thought of you
I stretched myself so far I nearly come unglued
You hold the universe inside your hands
Still you thought of me
I can't believe

Is there no limit to your love for me
As shallow as this selfish heart can be
You are the maker of reality
And I stand in awe
You are God

Chorus
Who am I
To understand your ways
Who am I
To give you anything but praise
Who am I
To try and solve the mystery
Behind the heart and soul of all that I believe
Who am I

You're every reason for my heart to hope
Creator of the dreams I've yet to know
You are the river for my thirsty soul
You are my desire
You are God

Chorus

I am your child
I will follow, who am I?
You gave your life
For my tomorrow

Chorus

     God's perspective is so different from my own.  I couldn't sense His perspective at all when the pain was so raw and the desire to give into self-pity was so strong.  But time, distance, reflection, and meditation on His Word have helped me to gain a tiny glimpse of how it all seems from His point of view.  I've seen a picture of life being a little like a game of Trouble.  As a parent, it's my desire to lead all my children safely around the board to "Home".  Timothy is already "Home Safe".  He can't get bumped about by the storms of life or sent back to start over.   I'm still shepherding my other children around the the board, hoping they don't encounter too much "trouble" on their journey.  But Timothy's future is secure.  Meanwhile, TNT is hoping to roll a 1 or 7 to "get out" and play the game of life!

   I got another peak into God's perspective a couple of weeks ago when I bumped into a fellow homeschool mom from church while running errands.  I told her I was expecting.  She asked about the ages and genders of our other children, trying to find a pattern to see if she could guess what this one's gender would be.  I told her about Timmy saying, "I have have a bonus son in Heaven."  I immediately thought that was a strange thing to say.  I had certainly never thought that before.  As the day went on, I thought about it  more and more and realized how true it is.  I've wasted too much time this past year focused on what I felt I'd lost, on what I'd thought had been robbed from me.  In that chance meeting in Target (no, ordained meeting) I became aware that I haven't really lost anything!  I know where Timmy is.  And he's safe and secure and happy.  He's better off than we are.  And I did nothing to get him there or secure that for him.  All that he needs has already been accomplished by Jesus.  One thing I grieved about is not being able to do anything for this precious son of mine.  Being a mom is alot about being a servant to others' needs.  But what more could I add to what Jesus has already done for him?  I very much like to think of Timothy as my bonus son rather than my lost son.  Lost is one thing he is certainly not and never will be.

    It's also a comfort and joy to be facing this day with another Tiny New Treasure growing in the secret place.  I'm so grateful for a second chance, and while there are few guarantees in life, I intend to enjoy everyday I have with this little one, be they few or many.  Every life is a treasure to God--even the unborn ones we can't see everyday.

     I am so grateful that God urged me to choose thankfulness this day rather than pity.  As it closes, I can say it has truly been a good day.  And only God can make it so.

God of All Comfort by Bill Gray

     Tiny New Treasure (or TNT, as we like to call him/her) had another checkup yesterday.  We are 16 weeks along and all is well so far.  It took her a while to find the heartbeat, which made me anxious, but she eventually found it.  What beautiful music! 

     We have the ultrasound in two weeks.  I can't wait to see him/her and choose a more permanent name than "TNT".  I have always been completely wrong about what gender the baby would be.  (I guess my "woman's intuition" is broken.)  This time around I was sure he was a boy at first, now I feel she's a girl.  So do I go with the opposite of my first intuition or my second?  I guess I'll be sure to be wrong (or right) no matter what, depending on how you look at it!

   Abby is definitely wanting another sister.  I'm trying to prep her so she won't be disappointed.  She cried at Jake's sonogram when they told us he was a boy.  Jake thinks we should have a boy because, "We've never had any boy babies before."  I laughed and told him we had three!  He just doesn't remember any of them.  Rebekah is the only baby he remembers.  Jake told me the other day he wants to name the baby Thomas.  I said we can't do that because it's his middle name and it's already taken.  He said, "Well, you can just call me Noah then."  Where does he get this stuff?

   I'm already working on plans to rearrange rooms, move Bekah to the big girl bed, and begin the potty training in earnest for her this summer.  I've already got the nesting bug bad.  I'm sort of a natural "nester" anyway, but something about being pregnant really kicks me into gear!

Note:  I wrote this post a month ago, but just now got around to actually posting it.

Mouse Traps

We had a mouse seeking shelter from the winter weather in our house once.  My husband caught it and "took care" of it.  He thought he heard another one sneaking around at night, so he asked me to pick up some more traps on errand day last week.  While we were in the PX, I discreetly asked my oldest son to remind me to look for traps when we got to the commissary.  Then Jaked piped up, "We already have some mouse traps at home, Mommy!"  There is nothing about Jake that is quiet or discreet.  Excited, and not quiet either, Sam asked, "Mommy, how many mice have we caught so far?"  I was overly concerned what others in the PX might be thinking of me and what kind of home I was running.  We quickly ducked down a less crowded isle and changed the subject.  Remind me not to bring up mouse traps in public again!

Decade of Motherhood

  Last week at the gym, I picked up a magazine to read while riding the bike.  It was an update on the McCaughey septuplets.  They were born just before our first son was, so I always used to follow what they were doing.  I felt so inadequate when she was sewing homemade clothes for her newborns and I was completely overwhelmed with only one!  Anyway, the magazine said "pictures from their first decade", and when I read that it hit me.  Now that our oldest has turned 10 and entered the double digits, I have been a mother for a whole decade!  Can it really be that long?  I certainly don't feel that old!  At least I'm more experienced now.  I can't believe how overwhelmed I was with one tiny baby, how afraid I was to take him home from the hospital because I wouldn't have nurses nearby around the clock.  How easy one newborn would be to me now!  Sometimes people wonder at how I do things with "so many" children, but keep in mind, I got them one at a time and I've grown as they have.  Wow!  A whole decade!  And what a great decade it's been!  I wouldn't trade it for anything!

Name Game

     Abby has been experimenting with her name recently.  She has told several people her name is Grace.  I think it's so funny that after struggling a lifetime with going by our middle names, both my husband and I determined not to call our children by their middle names, and now she wants to!  I don't really mind.  Considering when she was 3 she wanted me to change her name to "Sparkle", I think Grace is just fine.  After listening to Joel and I discuss it with her, Jake informed me the next day that he wanted to go by his full name.  Thankfully, he forgot about that wish soon.  Jake is so much easier to say!

Overheard in our living room today.

MOM: (noticing pencil marks on the hardwood floor)  Rebekah, did you draw on the floor?

REBEKAH:  (innocently) No.

MOM:  Then who did?  (She was the only one in the room at the time.)

REBEKAH:  (looking around for the culprit and finding a pencil on the floor)  'Dat . . . from . . . color.

MOM:  Well, who was holding the "color" when it drew on the floor?

REBEKAH:  Ummm . . . Becky!  (with another innocent grin)

Yes, even two-year olds are skilled at shifting the blame to someone else!

Applying the Constitutional Convention to Daily Life

     A couple of weeks ago, the children were playing one of their imaginitive games.  When I called them to the table for lunch, Sam was in tears.  "Josh isn't playing fair!  He has all the powers!"

     Josh's cryptic explanation was, "I think he's mad because I had the idea of cutting down the tree and building a bridge."

     Sam immediately shot back, "No! I'm mad because you can use turtle shell and knock down my walls!"

   "Oh dear!"  I thought.  "How can I mediate this one?  I don't even have a clue what they're talking about!"  Then, the light bulb came on as I remembered our morning's lesson on the Constitutional Convention.  I reminded them what our founding father's did and how everyone got "a half loaf".  Everybody got something they wanted, but nobody got everything they wanted.  I encouraged them to use that same idea to guide them as they worked out this problem.

     It worked better than I could have imagined!  Immediately, tears were dried and an energetic and friendly discussion began on how to make the imaginary game more fair.  Abby and Jake also got involved in offering suggestions.  I didn't understand any of the suggestions, nor the final outcome, but they were all satisfied with their "half a loaf".  Now, if only I could get my "light bulb" to work more often!

Jake's comment to me as I was tucking him in one night:

"Mommy, these three things are most important:  reading the Bible, hugs & smootches, being polite to others."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's delighted to be learning to read.  Daddy does a lesson or two with him each night and Jake enjoys telling me all about it.  "I learned a new letter," he bragged.  "It's 'A' [long A sound], but it looks a lot like 'a' [short a sound]."  I explained that it was the same letter, but 2 different sounds and that there are some letters who make more than one sound.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An excited dicovery:  "Mommy!  That's the same thing!  East . . .  Easter . . . Easter play!!!!"

What fun to watch his little wheels turn!

     After studying the Declaration of Independence and memorizing the first two paragraphs, the children came up with the idea of writing their own Declaration.  It was all their own idea and they went off in secret to do it.  Sam even asked if they could nail the window shut in our house.  I said no.  My son, who abhors writing, offered to be the scribe and they even drew a flag to go with it.  Here's the unedited text of their declaration:

In the kitchen, March 7, 2008, the declaration of the United Kids of the M. family

     We hold these truths to be self evedent that children shold obey there parents, for the parents are in charge of them.  However, children do have rights, and among these are fun, learning, and love.  But if any adults become disructive of these rights, then it is the right of the children to alter it.

If only all homeschool assignments went this well and were this much fun!

These are a collection of thoughts I've had as I've reflected on the events of Jesus' death and resurrection.  I feel wholly inadequate to communicate the truths about God I have been contemplating, but I submit these to you to get your own wheels turning about how great is the Lord's love for you.

Two Different Criminals

     The story of the two criminals crucified with Jesus as described in Luke 23 is like a nutshell version of the gospel.  Two criminals hung there:  both guilty, both condemned to die, both insulted God's Son to his face.  Yet one had a change of heart.  One admitted his own guilt and acknowledged Jesus' innocence.  He repented.  He asked Jesus to remember him.

     There are two things I find interesting about this story.  First, Jesus only told one of them he would be in Paradise that day.  He made no such promise to the unrepentant one.  Yes, God extends His mercy to everyone, but only those who embrace it have it in the end.  To say that we all go to Heaven regardless of our attitude toward Jesus is to cast aside what the Scripture clearly says.

     Secondly, the criminal found his way to Paradise by no merit of his own.  He repented in the last few hours of his life as he was dying on a cross.  It was too late by then for any good works.  He had already passed up his opportunity for that.  There was nothing he had done that he could boast about.  Truly, there is nothing any of us has done that we can boast about.  We are all condemned for our sin.  Our "righteousness" is as filthy rags compared to God's standards.  Again, to say that those whose good deeds outweigh their bad are the ones allowed entrance into Heaven is to ignore what Jesus said.

Between the Cross and the Empty Tomb

  What crushing despair the disciples and followers of Jesus must have felt on Friday and Saturday!  They thought He was the One to save and rescue them.  They had put their hope and trust in Him.  And now this!  How could this happen?  It wasn't supposed to end like this.  They gave up everything to follow him and this it how it all turned out?  All their hopes dashed to pieces.  All their dreams for the future now unable to be fulfilled as they had imagined.  What was God doing?  Had they believed a lie?  Did they wonder, as John the Baptist did awaiting his death, was Jesus the One they had been waiting for, or should they look for another?  Had they been deceived in following Him? 

   Have you ever felt a similar despair when you follow Jesus and things don't turn out like you thought they would?  In fact, things are much worse off than before you decided to obey Him.  Have you ever wondered if it was folly to put all your hope in Jesus?  I have.  Sometimes, God makes absolutely no sense to us.  He has awesome wonderful plans for each of our lives, but we are so small and so finite and so lacking in understanding that we can't even begin to comprehend what He could possibly be up to.  As I told my aunt a few months before she passed away, "If I could figure God out, He wouldn't really be much of a God, would He?"

   1 Corinthians 1:25 says, "For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength."  I like how The Message renders it, "Human wisdom is so tinny, so impotent, next to the seeming absurdity of God.  Human strength can't begin to compete with God's 'weakness'."  Yes, our wisdom, our ability to discern what God is doing is impotent.  We can not figure Him out, and so to us, His plans sometimes seem absurd, and we are tempted to doubt.

     What we are unable to imagine is the Sunday morning when the stone is rolled away and the Messiah rises to a whole new kind of life.  Jesus even told them all that would happen, but they forgot.  Jesus' enemies didn't though.  They put guards at the tomb because they remembered he had said he would rise from the dead.   

     If you are in that place where you have witnessed the death of  the hopes you hold most dear, and you're wondering where God is in all of this; I would encourage you to hold on until God reveals the empty tomb.  His perfect timing does not cater to our wishes, we must wait for it.  Often, we have to wait much longer than 3 days.   Sometimes, we have to wait years.  Living between the cross and the empty tomb is painful and difficult, but Sunday always comes at just the right time. 

     Many of you know Nicole Nordeman is my favorite artist.  My current favorite song of hers is "Sunrise".   It speaks of God being our Sunrise after a long, dark night.  I couldn't figure out how to embed the video into my blog, but here's the link.  It's a beautiful song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7F--hYTDXFk

Raised to a New Life

     We watched our church's Easter pageant this past Friday night.  There was a scene of Jesus healing several people while someone sang "There is Power in the Name of the Lord" (I think it's a Sandi Patti song).  The climax was when a mother and father brought their lifeless daughter to Jesus and He restored life to her limp body.  I couldn't help but cry as I realized that's what Jesus has done for my Timmy.  He wasn't raised to physical life on this earth, but I've no doubt that he is alive right now with Jesus.  Timothy's Easter celebration will be much better than mine because He is experiencing that eternal resurrection life right now.

     We weren't created to die.  God wanted us to live forever.  Sin is what mars our existence.  Deep inside, we know it isn't right.  We long for something better, something good, something permanent.  God wants us to long for these things, because He is the only One who can give them to us.  When we seek to find the way our lives are meant to be, we must run to God.  How grateful I am that He has made a way for us, in spite of ourselves.  In spite of the crimes we've committed, the insults we've hurled at Him, the doubts we've clung to as we wait desperately between the cross and the empty tomb . . . in spite of all this, He extends to us mercy and a New Life.  This is what it's all about.

Christ is risen!
He is risen, indeed!

     One evening, I was trying to "bless my house" as flylady puts it and clean up a bit.  I had about 15 minutes until dinner, so I got out my timer and my dusting equipment.  Rebekah (aka "The Mistress of Mischeif") can make messes faster than I can clean them up, so I decided I'd better carry her on my back while I worked.  Upbeat music is always motivating, so I tossed my ipod into my cleaning apron and put in the earphones.

     Thus equipped, I began to dust energetically, trying to beat the 15 minute timer.  Soon, there was a knock at the door.  I took out one earphone and ran to the door.  My neighbor had dropped by to drop something off.  When I opened the door, her jaw dropped.  I realized my appearance had shocked her. 

     "I'm just cleaning up a bit," I tried to explain.

     "I can see that," came her laughing reply.  We chatted for a bit and then we were interrupted by my 15 minute timer going off.  I reached into my apron and shut it off. 

     "Well, my dusting time is over.  Time to finish up dinner, " I said, offering an explanation for the timer.  About that time, hubby came home and saw our dumbfounded neighbor and my strange appearance.  He told her I was like this because I was organized.

     "I wish I had a photo of this!" she said as she walked away.  I thought you might enjoy a chuckle too, so I had Josh take my picture after she left.   Here's a "snapshot of my life".

     I originally wrote this blog about a month ago, but life's events overtook me and I didn't get the photo to go with it downloaded until today.  Hope you enjoy it, even though the news is a little stale!

      Last weekend was the cub scout Pinewood Derby.  For the unindoctrinated, it is the time of year when fathers and cub scouts work together to make a race car out of a block of wood and four plastic tires, and then all the pack comes together to see which cars make it down the track and which ones don't.  After doing most of the work for the past couple of years, Joel decided Josh should be responsible for building his own car this year.  Josh got a book at the scout store about how to build a fast car.  He skimmed it one night, then rapidly painted the car and put the wheels on.  When Joel awoke the next morning, there was the car--finished except for the weights and a few touchups. 

     As the race drew nearer, we parents began to squirm a bit.  Josh's car was obviously painted and constructed by a child and not by the parent.  Would we be embarrassed by our son's work on race day when he competed against all the other cars where the dad clearly did the building and painting?  "Why didn't you help him more?", I scolded my husband.  "He still needs your oversight and guidance."  Joel pointed out that Josh finished the car in one evening before he had a chance to offer input.  So Josh fixed the smudges of paint on his car and Joel helped him screw the weights onto the bottom.

     For race day, it was decided that I should take Josh and Sam, who will be a tiger cub next year, to the race and Joel would stay home with the girls and Jake so the little ones could nap.  I really dislike being responsible for the last-minute adjustments and tweaking that are involved in race day, but I really wanted to see the race.  We signed in and then stopped at "the pit".  They had some wheel lubricant to use and so I talked Josh into using some.  We hadn't done that in the past and I wasn't sure how to do it.  One of the other dads helped us out.  Well, in case you didn't know, powdered graphite is very messy!  Josh's car now had grey splotches all over it.  It looked pretty bad.  A lump worked it's way up my throat.  Fortunately, some water and paper towels from the restroom cleaned it up nicely. 

     The next stop was the official weigh in.  The cars are not allowed to exceed certain dimensions, nor can they weigh more than 5 grams.  They have an official race day weight made by NASA with the cub scout logo to test the scales.  This is serious stuff.  Josh's car came in at 4.7g.  As per Joel's instructions, we added a dime to the scale and the weight was just right, 5.0 grams exactly.  So, then it was off to the corner to get out the gorilla glue and attach the dime to the bottom of the car for extra weight.  We went back to the official scale and weighed in again.  The dime fell off.  I squished it back on and pressed as hard as I could for as long as they'd let me.  Then it was time to relinquish the car to the race officials.  We were told we would not be allowed to touch the car again until after the race was complete.  If anything fell off the car, it would have to race without it.  I hoped the dime would hold on.

     Before long it was time for the race to start.  The software program that times the cars and calculates the winners was having technical difficulties.  Finally the races began.  But the electronic "scoreboard" was showing the wrong boys names in the wrong places.  It was determined that the computer and the humans were not labeling lanes 1-6 in the same way and that created confusion.  So the first few heats had to be run again.  To entertain us during the delay, (or else make the delay seem even longer, I'm not sure which)  they open the mic up to any cub scout wishing to share a joke.  The joke-telling line was long for the rest of the race.

     After waiting through the tigers, wolves, and bears, it was finally time for webelos 1.  Unlike previous races we've done where it was either single or double elimination (i.e. you lose once or twice and your done) this time each boy raced 6 times--once in each lane.  It's actually more fair this way, because it doesn't matter who you race against or which lane you're in.  Also, it's good because even the slowest car gets to race six times.  (At Josh's first race when he was a tiger I just hoped he would win one heat, that's all I wanted--just don't get eliminated on the very first run!)  Amazingly, the dime stayed attached and Josh won 5 out of the 6 races he ran in.  He came in 2nd the other time.  When the scores were posted, Josh was declared the winner of the Webelos 1 category! 

     When the races were done, they gave out ribbons for the best looking cars and the fastest cars in each level of scouts.  Then, there were only 2 trophies remaining--one for the "Best in Show" and one for the fastest car.  I was amazed and proud when they called Josh up to receive the trophy for the fastest car in the entire pack!  I couldn't help but wonder if that other dad was sorry he'd helped us with the lubricant.

     As he was standing up there in front of everyone, I was so glad I had taken the time to sew on all his new patches.  Since we just moved I had to replace the pack, den, and council badges with his new ones.  I admit sewing is not an activity I enjoy nor am I particularly good at.  I almost just didn't do it since I had just done it a year ago when we moved and I felt that I had validated the sewing cub scout patches for my "mommy merit badges".  It was really the pinewood derby that motivated me to sew them on at all.  I don't think I would have bothered for just a pack meeting.  I think Boy Scouts should change the uniforms to be more like flight suits.  When my husband changes units, he just rips one velcro patch off and slaps on the new one and he's done.  I'm so glad I don't have to sew those!

     On the way out to our van, a scout dad stopped us and congratulated Joshua.  I mentioned that this was his first year to do it alone without dad's help.  "Your Dad has taught you very well," was his reply.  I told Josh in the car that Dad would be jealous of his trophy.  Joel was incredulous and overjoyed when Josh showed him the trophy and told how he won.  I'm glad Josh had the chance to do it on his own.  His victory is even sweeter this way.  I shouldn't be surprised that with a fighter pilot dad, Josh is into speed.

   In March, we're off to the district race, the next level where the fastest from each pack compete against each other.  Usually, we come home from the derby and toss his car in his keepsake box with the cars from previous years and his baby shoes.  This year, we put it carefully up on the fridge so the littles couldn't get it and break it.  We treated it even more carefully than we did before the race.  Now, it wasn't just a pinewood car, now it was a winner!  So let's just hope that dime stays on until March!

  I have returned home this week after being out of town last week for my aunt's funeral.  My  husband took two days off work and filled in as a substitute teacher while I was gone.  He and the children had a great time together.  What a blessing that they all allowed me the freedom to be with my other family members during this difficult time.  They were all quite happy to see me when I returned though.  They picked me up at the airport in their jammies (well, my husband was dressed, lol).  Rebekah lit up and squealed with delight, "Momma!" like my arrival was a total surprise.  It's hard to explain these things to the little ones.  Joel worked on writing and math facts with the oldest.  Those are our current emphasis items.  My only diappointment was that the children went ahead in the read alouds and I missed out on several chapters.  (Anyone using Sonlight will know what I mean!)  My husband accuses me of homeschooling for myself, which is only partially true.  I really enjoy learning along with the children and knowing all sorts of things I didn't pick up the first time around.  I figure that if I can pass on a love of reading and a love of learning to my children, then they can teach themselves just about anything.  Of course, that's an oversimplified definition of homeschooling, but that's one of my major goals.

     We are now adjusting back to "normal" life--whatever that is.  I'm not even sure such a creature exists.  I still can't believe my aunt is gone.  I'm glad that she has secured a permanent healing through her faith in Jesus, but I'm sad that she is no longer with us.  Such is the dilemma of living in this time where Christ has already absolutely won the victory over sin and death and yet, we have not yet fully attained it.  It is a mystery I can not understand or express, but yet we all feel the tension it produces within us. 

      My aunt is healed and whole and happy beyond what we can even imagine.  Knowing that brings such peace and comfort.  And yet, we are all left here with the unanswered questions lingering in the air.  There are those who say we must not ask, "Why God?", but I disagree.  As our pastor said just this past Sunday, "A faith that is not able to stand up to the scrutiny of hard questions is not a faith worth embracing."  He went on to describe three kinds of faith:  weak faith, defiant faith, and confused faith.  Weak faith is afraid of asking the tough questions and will eventually fall away or remain perpetually shallow.  Defiant faith hurls questions at God without a humble heart.   It shakes it fist at Heaven and would not chose to believe even if there were sufficient answers.  Confused faith wants to believe, but is struggling and worn out.  The confused faith comes to God with a humble heart and a desire to know God more intimately.  He described Christianity as an intelligent faith based upon reasonable evidence.  But, he said, even reason has it's limits.  That's where faith comes in.  We must trust the revelation of God.  We wouldn't believe His plans even if He told them to us.

    Just yesterday, Rebekah was pleading earnestly with me for a cup of juice.  I wanted to give her the juice, but I needed to wash my hands first.  As I left the kitchen to wash up in the bathroom, her wails escalated as she thought I was abandoning her and ignoring her request.  She had no way of comprehending that because I had just changed her diaper, I needed to clean up before providing what she wanted.  If I sat down and explained it her, she wouldn't understand.  She is completely unable to grasp the concept of microscopic germs she can't see invading her juice and making her sick.  All she can do is wait patiently while she trusts that I love her, want what's best for her, and know more than she does.  How many 2 year olds do that?!  None, and very few Christians do it with God either.  How often I act like a 2-year-old toward God, upset because He didn't meet my demands in the way or the timing I wanted!  O Lord, give me grace to trust your heart and your perfect wisdom when I can't figure out what on earth You are up to!

   I learned the chorus to the following song when I was at the Academy.  I've always treasured it in times of difficulty or uncertainty.  I searched online to try to find the author to give him/her credit.  Instead, I found the whole song.  I hadn't heard or didn't remember the other parts, but they are also good.  The website said it was from Newsong.  I don't know if they wrote it, or just sang it years ago.  I hope it uplifts and encourages you as well.

All things work for our good
though sometimes we can’t see how they could.
Struggles that break our hearts in two
sometimes blind us to the truth.
Our Father knows what’s best for us;
His ways are not our own.
So, when your pathway grows dim,
and you just can’t see Him,
Remember He’s still on the throne.

God is too wise to be mistaken.
God is too good to be unkind.
So when you don’t understand,
when you don’t see His plan,
When you can’t trace His hand, trust His heart.

He sees the Master plan.
He holds the future in His hands.
So don’t live as those who have no hope.
All our hope is found in Him.
We walk in present knowledge,
but He sees the first and the last.
And like a tapestry, He’s weaving you and me
to someday be just like Him.

God is too wise to be mistaken.
God is too good to be unkind.
So when you don’t understand,
when you don’t see His plan,
When you can’t trace His hand, trust His heart.

Another thing our pastor mentioned in his sermon was that we should all "doubt our doubts".  It's interesting advice.  I've never thought of it that way, but he has a good point.

     One verse that has been rumbling around in my head the last couple of weeks is Psalm 116:15 "Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints."  To us, the loss of someone we love can be a tragedy.  But God's way of looking at things is so different from our ways.  He says it's precious when He receives one of His own in the place where they truly belong.  The Message translates that verse "When they arrive at the gates of death, God welcomes those who love him."

    Another passage that keeps drawing my attention as I contemplate the deaths of those dear to me is from John 12.

Jesus answered, "Time's up. The time has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.

 24-25"Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you'll have it forever, real and eternal.

 26"If any of you wants to serve me, then follow me. Then you'll be where I am, ready to serve at a moment's notice. The Father will honor and reward anyone who serves me.

 27-28"Right now I am storm-tossed. And what am I going to say? 'Father, get me out of this'? No, this is why I came in the first place. I'll say, 'Father, put your glory on display.'"

   A voice came out of the sky: "I have glorified it, and I'll glorify it again."

     This was Jesus' response to some who asked to a disciple to help them see Jesus.  Strange answer.  They want to see Him and He starts talking about death.  We have no way of knowing what "fruit" is born of our sufferings.  We must learn to respond like Jesus and not ask God to spare us from the pain, but instead glorify Himself through our hurts.

      I have one more poem to share and then I'll conclude this rather lengthy post.  Thanks for sticking it out with me this far.  Today for our poetry reading in homeschool, we had the following Sonnet by Christina Rossetti.  I thought it was very appropriate for today and a good reminder to enjoy the life I have even though I'm mourning my loss of others who have gone on to Glory.  For they are not really "lost" after all.  They are safe in the arms of Jesus.

Remember me when I am gone away,    
   Gone far away into the silent land;    
   When you can no more hold me by the hand, 
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. 
Remember me when no more day by day    
   You tell me of our future that you plann’d:    
   Only remember me; you understand 
It will be late to counsel then or pray. 
Yet if you should forget me for a while    
   And afterwards remember, do not grieve:    
   For if the darkness and corruption leave    
   A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, 
Better by far you should forget and smile 
   Than that you should remember and be sad. 

     Better still, I think, to remember and be happy for all shared and felt before the flowers faded and the mist that we call life moved on to higher realms, and for all that our loved ones now enjoy in the security of Eternity, and for all that will be our own when one day we who call upon the name of Jesus will be gathered around His celestial throne.

     Goodbye, Aunt Linda.  We'll see you soon.

     Last night as I was tucking him in, Jacob asked me for a drink of water as is his habit.  Since he usually only takes a minuscule amount from an already tiny dixie cup, I often suspect that he's not really thirsty, he just doesn't want to go to bed.  So last night, I asked him, "Are you really thirsty, or are you just stalling?"

   "What is stalling?", he asked me.

     I replied, "It's when you don't want to go to bed, so you come up with as many other things to do as you can possibly think of."

     He reflected for a moment and then asked, "What was the first choice?"

     My children know they can't get out of bedtime, but they also know Mommy is unable to refuse them water, even when I know they aren't thirsty.  Even 22-month old Rebekah has figured this one out from watching big brother Jake get tucked in.  They've got me figured out!  Scary.

     After reading a biography of Thomas Jefferson today, the children and I got into a discussion about slavery.  We've read that in their later years, both George Washington and Thomas Jefferson felt slavery was wrong and they thought that the words "all men were created equal" should apply to everyone.  However, neither one of them did very much about it.  Washington freed his own slaves only after both he and his wife were dead.  Jefferson freed his own four children and their mother Sally, but not his other 400 slaves.  As president, he tried weakly to prevent more slaves from entering America, but did nothing to help the ones who were already here.  The book we read today expressed the quandry Jefferson and others faced over how to abolish something that was so wrong, yet such an integral part of Americans way of life and economy.

     So we were all sitting around the table in the kitchen discussing the difficulties that would be created by freeing all the slaves at once.  Where would they live?  How could they all get jobs?  The plantation owners couldn't afford to pay salaries to all of them.  What about education?  Josh wanted to get a think tank together to invent machines to help farmers and usher in the Industrial Revolution sooner.  Abby suggested that plantation owners allow their slaves to become paid servants or else turn them loose.  Sam said he couldn't think of anything because Rebekah was distracting him.   Jacob listened for a while and then begged to join our conversation.  So I told everyone else to be quiet and listen to Jacob express his ideas.   I said, "So, Jake, how would you free all the slaves?"  He said very matter-of-fact, "I would just open the cage and let them out."  He looked at me like "duh, Mom.  It's so obvious."  So simple!  Now why didn't the founding fathers think of that?

   After taking several weeks off from homeschool for our move and Christmas vacation, we officially reopened our school this week.  As expected, it takes some extra time to get adjusted to new schedules and find everything in a new place.  All in all, the week has gone well, though we have some rough places that need to be smoothed and some crooked things that ought to be straightened out.

     Our biggest homeschool challenge right now is our almost-two-year-old.  She's quite the busy little girl.  I have the other children taking turns watching her while I work with the other 2 or 3.  I've told them their priorities while watching Becky are (1) keep her safe, (2) keep her from making a mess,  & (3) have fun!  The first one mostly means keep her off the ladders to the bunk beds.  She loves to climb!  Out of 5 children, she's the first to learn how to climb out of the pack-and-play.  Priority #2 is the most challenging.  Yesterday morning while we were all occupied elsewhere, she got into the utility closet and had a grand time with batteries, light bulbs, shoes, and mittens.  As a bonus, she dust-mopped the office for me.  I discovered her and she immediately stood up and said, "mess mess" and started to help me put the batteries away.  She knew what she had done and she seemed so truly repentant and sweet.  I fell for it.  While I got engrossed in cleaning that mess, she quietly slipped away unnoticed.  I walked through the kitchen and heard a faint tinkling sound.  My Mommy Radar quickly assessed the noise and decided it sounded fragile.  Sure enough, she was in the dining room having a tea party with the wine glasses and crystal punch cups.  ugh!  We have a name for this type of event now.  We call it getting "Beckled".  Her grandparents coined the phrase when they were visiting recently.  One of her nicknames is "Beckles", so when she wrecks something, we say it has been "Beckled".  For example, just this weekend, I said to my Dad who was visiting, "Your suitcase has been Beckled.  You may want to keep your door closed."   So, needless to say, this morning she wound up strapped in her chair at the table with various activities or snacks.  My other alternative is to carry her on my back in the ergo, but I do want her to be able to run around on her own too.  It's just a full-time job keeping tabs on her!

     In my busyness, I've allowed some of our basics to get sloppy, so we're focusing on those as we restart school . . . good handwriting, neat math lessons, etc.  It's been a productive week.  Earlier, I was doing math with the younger boys.  (It's kindergarten math, but my kindergartner is bored and the 3-year old loves it.)  So part of today's lesson was learning about the hexagon.  We talked about it, looked at it, counted the sides, talked about bees hives, built other shapes with several hexagons.  Suddenly, Jake made a connection.  "This is where Dad works!  This is the Hexagon!", he shouted with excitement.  We had just taken a tour of Daddy's new office building this past weekend and we had shown Jake the map of the building.  "Not quite,"  I said.  "Daddy works at the Pentagon.  His building only has five sides."  Well, he was close anyway.  Not too bad for preschool math, I guess.

   We celebrated Abby's 8th birthday this past week.  I'm amazed at how much she's grown.  She iced her own birthday cake.  I did the math and figured she's now as old as Joshua was when we were in Korea.  Time has flown. 

      I often reflect upon her difficult first year of life, particularly around her birthday and in December around the anniversary of her surgery.  It's always interesting to me that the whole affair is such a huge thing to me and it is nothing to her.  She, of course, was too young to remember anything about it.  I'm glad to be able to shoulder the burden and allow it to be just an interesting story about her past to her. 

     God has been so good to us and healed her above and beyond our expectations.  I remember when the doctor bluntly told me she had a cleft when she was born.  And I'll never be able to erase the memory of her nearly starving that first week because we were unprepared to feed her and the doctors instructions proved to be misguided.  We were so thankful to meet the lactation consultant who introduced us to the Haberman feeder.  People sure gave us funny looks feeding her with that long-nippled bottle!  But it felt so good to be able to satisfy her hunger like I couldn't do that first week.  I didn't care what it looked like or who stared.  There were so many struggles that first year and always the dark cloud hanging over me of her upcoming surgery.

     Now, she is so healthy, except for an occasional ear infection.  Her speech and language took off so rapidly following her cleft repair surgery.  She's quite chatty.  And she hasn't required any of the follow-up surgeries I dreaded.  I just read over the email I sent out describing her surgery and recovery.  I commented how dreading it was worse than doing it.  I need to be reminded of that lesson every so often.  I tend to worry instead of just doing what needs to be done.  I'm so thankful for what God's done in her life and that He created people with the reasoning and skills to figure out how to repair the human body and then do it successfully.  Of course, God Himself is our ultimate true Healer, but He often enjoys working through people too.

     I'd like to share a poem I wrote when Abby was a baby that expresses how I was feeling at the time. 

The Rain

From my window I can see
The summer flowers
Heads hung low
Drooping beneath the ceaseless rain
Beaten down by the blowing storm

But then, the clouds make way
To let the Sun shine through
And, ever so slowly, they lift their heads
And stretch their arms toward Heaven’s Light
Once again, they stand tall and proud
Bathed in Light and
Refreshed by the rain

Blown and drenched by storms of life,
I feel the flowers’ pain
I wonder if I’ll ever stand again

But I endure with patience
Knowing the shadows will not last forever
And I long for the day when
The Light of Heaven will once again shine down
Upon my broken heart
And God’s true Love will lift my head
And I, like the flowers, will have been
Refreshed by the rain

(August 15, 2000)

     One day I was feeling particularly burdened by caring for the special needs of my seven-month old daughter, Abigail. The cleft she was born with brought numerous doctor’s appointments, insurance hassles, concern for upcoming surgeries, and feeding difficulties. I felt strained under the load and the relentless rain outside only added to my gloom. I noticed the flowers from my front window, bent under the weight of the rain, their beautiful petals drooping into the mud. They were a picture of how I felt. Later, after the rain had stopped and the sun had returned, I was amazed to see those same flowers standing taller than before! I then realized that, although it looked painful, God had provided exactly what they needed and they had, in fact, been refreshed—not crushed—by the rain. In this I found hope that I too, could be refreshed by the storms God allowed in my life. As I write this now, looking back on the whole experience, I can say with joy that, indeed God has refreshed my life with His rain.   (May 29, 2001)

     Standing on the other side of the storm,  I now know that what I had hoped for from God is true.  He has used the rain to refresh me and make me stronger.  My prayer is that in whatever storm you are facing today, you will trust that God intends the rain to ultimately nourish and refresh you, not beat you down into the mud.  The sun will rise again, the Light of Heaven will shine on your path once more, God will lift your head.  Have peace.  The shadows will not last forever.

     I got this poem from the book Grief and Grace by Amanda Axelby.  She credits it to an unknown titled book published in 1879.  This has given me a beautiful picture to ponder as I mourn the loss of my son, Timothy, who died before he was born.

The Shepherd and the Lambs

Unto the margin of the flowing river
The eastern shepherd leads his timid sheep;
He calls them on, but they stand still and shiver,
To them the stream seems wide, and swift, and deep.

He calls them on, but they in fear are standing;
He calls them on, but on they dare not go;
They heed not now the voice of this commanding,
They only heed the river's fearful flow.

Then from the side of one protecting mother
A lamb the shepherd takes unto his breast;
And then he gently bends and takes another,
And in his arms the two lambs lie at rest.

They lie at rest, and, as he close enfolds them,
He bears them safely o'er the river wide;
The little lambs know well the arm that holds them,
They nestle warmly and are satisfied.

Then the fond mothers with maternal longing
Look on beyond that river's fearful flow;
They can but follow, and, behind them thronging,
Their fleecy comrades are in haste to go.

Drawn by a love stronger than any shrinking,
Their lambs they follow o'er the flowing tide;
They heed not now the swimming or the sinking,
They brave the stream and reach the further side.

And while their tender shepherd kindly feeds them
They think no longer upon what hath been;
He gives them back their lambs, and then he leads them
By the still waters, through the pastures green.

So shall it be with you, O weeping mother,
Whose lamb the Lord has taken from your sight;
'Tis he hath done it, He and not another,
Your lamb lies in His arms clasped close and tight.

Across the stream your little one is taken
That you may fear no more the quick, dark flow;
But that, with steadfast heart and faith unshaken,
You may be ready after it to go.

This is the tender Shepherd's loving pleasure,
To bless at once the little lamb and you;
He knows that when with Him is your best treasure,
There fixed for ever will your heart be too.

     Thank You, Lord for keeping my precious lamb in Your arms clasped close and tight.  Thank You that Timothy has all he'll ever need and that he has found peace and security in Your presence.  Thank You for the hope that I will be able to see him face to face someday.  Little Timmy is not "lost".  I know right where he is.  He's with You.  And all that I place in Your care is not lost to me, but is kept safe where no harm can befall.  Where would I be without You, Lord?  How could I live?  Thank You, for all You've done and all You've blessed me with.  In Jesus' precious name, Amen.

Jake, age 3--Pointing to the bathroom scale, he says, "Mommy, stand on that and see how much your feet cost."  When I complied, he exclaimed, obviously impressed, "Wow!  How did you make it go that high?"

Sam, age 5- He left the lunch table and was in the bathroom so I asked if he was done with his lunch.  His reply, "No, I was just emptying my tummy because I was full, but I wanted to eat more because it tastes so good."

Jake, Christmas Eve, after being told he needed to go to bed so "Santa" would visit:  "So how long will Santa stay with us?  Two days?"

Jake-Trying to make sure he understood about what I just explained about when his cousin would come visit, "So tomorrow he won't be here, and then the next day he'll almost be here, and then the next day he'll be here?"

Abby, age 8:  "Mom, why do you and Dad like to talk alone so much?  I'm starting to get suspicious."  I replied by explaining that a good marriage requires lots of communication and that we'd be willing to communicate in their presence more often if they wouldn't interrupt so much.

Jake's prayer:  "Dear God, I thank you that you are the Almighty Good Guy." 
(Sound Biblical doctrine meets observation of older brothers' play station games.)

Jake's response to every page of the story Going on a Bear Hunt ("Can't go over it.  Can't go under it.  Oh no, we have to go through it . . . "):  "Well, of course you can't go under it!"

Rebekah's prayer, age 21 months:  "Dee Ga, ya turn, ahhhmen."  (translation: "Dear God, your turn. amen.")  She's been listening during our family prayer times.  We take turns and the children pray in order from oldest to youngest.  They're always saying, "Your turn, _______." when someone forgets to go.  I told my Dad about this and he commented that was a pretty good prayer, just say "Your turn, God" and let Him handle it.

     2007 was a tough year for me.  Many challenges came at me from many directions with seldom enough time between them to digest one before the next was upon me.  I found the following in My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers on December 31st.  It expresses my desires for  2008.

     "Our yesterdays present irreparable things to us; it is true that we have lost opportunities which will never return, but God can transform this destructive anxiety into a constructive thoughtfulness for the future.  Let the past sleep, but let it sleep on the bosom of Christ.  Leave the Irreparable Past in His hands, and step out into the Irresistible Future with Him."

     Lord, thank you for giving me the hope of an Irresistible Future with You.

     One day last month, I had several errands I needed to run around town.  So I loaded the children up into the Suburban, threw in a couple of bags of pretzels and water bottles and we were off.  The children kept peppering me with questions.  "Where are we going next?"  "How long are we going to be at this place?"  "When's lunch?"  "What are we having for lunch?" "How many things do we have to get?" and on and on.  I started out patiently answering their questions as best I could.  As the morning wore on and the questions continued, I found myself getting more and more frustrated.  I began asking myself my own silent questions  "Why can't they just hang out and enjoy the ride?"  "Why do they have to ruin our outing together by bothering me with so many questions?"  "Can't we just enjoy each other's company?"  "Is that so hard?" 

     When my own questions finally subsided, it slowly dawned on me how much like me they are.  Don't I do the same thing to God all the time?  Being in the midst of yet another military move, I was peppering God with my own questions.  "Where are we going to live?"  "How long will this assignment last?"  "Will we find a church we like?"  "How much of our stuff will be broken or lost this time?"  "Will we find friends quickly?"  My questions seem so much more "adult" and "important", but are they really?  When I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that in trying to control the circumstances, I'm missing out on enjoying the ride with my Dad.  I'm on a journey with God and too often, I'm too busy asking Him what's around the next corner instead of enjoying the sunrise He's given today.  I imagine He wishes I'd just be still and quiet and know that He is God and let that be enough.

     Have you ever driven someplace as a passenger and then later, when you try to drive to the same place on your own, you can't quite remember all the details of how to get there because last time you were talking to the other person instead of concentrating on steering the car?  I think God's asking me to quit trying to take the steering wheel from Him and just be a passenger having a conversation with Him and enjoying His company.  I don't have to worry about trying to find my way on my own later, because He has promised to never leave me nor forsake me.  I'm free to just stare out the window and look at the stars or the deer on the side of the road, or to stick my hand out the window and pretend it's an airplane.  But I seldom take the opportunity to do those things on this journey I'm on now that I'm all "grown up".  God is God and I am not, and yet why do I find it so hard to simply trust and relax in His presence and enjoy the ride? I want to enjoy the ride however long or short my journey is and no matter what potholes or detours happen along the way.  Isn't my Father more than able to handle anything that comes up?  So why do I act like it all depends on me?  Lord, help me trust and obey and enjoy the journey with You.  I couldn't ask for a better Driver!